Who I Still Am
by underLINED mine
Summary: Lost:Everything about America, what he ever had, to what he was, is gone. The only remanent to how things were before,to how he was before is the only thing he trusts anymore;his brother, Matthew.But when he can't find his only friend, how will he cope? Will he be able to move on and look, even if it means confronting himself?Or will he slip into this new Hell of the broken?
1. Chapter 1: From a Nightmare

_Hello, I'm Emma. This is up on the top, but it'll normally be on the bottom. I seen other people who write stories on this site have a little note thing like this at the end and beginning, so I thought "Why not?" and did it. However, it might not be a good idea, especially writing ideas gotten from fanfics aren't usually very good. Oh well. Don't worry, these won't be here for every chapter. Before, I tried writing a Hetalia fan fiction, but after I tried for half a year writing one story, I stopped after struggling to write. Other stories I tried to start also ended up sputtering and dying. Listening to songs helped write this, and even though I wrote it in a nonlinear order for most of it, I'll try to say the songs I listened to when I wrote a specific chapter. For this chapter, I listened to "_ In a Rainy Town, Balloons Dance with Demons _" which is most likely about rape. Speaking of rape, this story has rape that's very implied but never outright stated. Try guessing what fanfic this was inspired by. I'm not exactly sure what is meant by spiritual, but this is about Alfred sort of rebuilding himself, so that's why I chose it. Please tell me what you like about it, or what can be improved. Not "This sucks", but "This sucks because the main character is wangsty because he mentions it every other sentence". You're also free to point out grammar mistakes as well. This will be updated weekly._

* * *

Alfred screamed himself awake, starting to rise before very quickly getting back down, covering himself. He had no idea what was out there, just like last time, though at least now he was aware. Peeking his head out of the blanket, like it was imaginary armor for children from pretend dangers, Alfred gingerly looked around. As far as he knew, nothing was there. Alfred wasn't very smart, so it showed what he knew. Not that it mattered; with all his strength, he was still a kid, still weak and fragile. It was adults who protected children from the real dangers. At least he knew that much. Alfred wasn't a child anymore, but he certainly wasn't an adult. Adults knew about the world. That's why they were cautious, and he was dumb. Children were punished for their misbehavior.

… After enough time was spent in a cold sweat anticipating those monsters, he gingerly tilted his head as if that much would set them off. Anything hiding there must be waiting for him to drop his guard. As he slowly sat up, his right arm jerked to protect his neck, and the blanket fell down, exposing him. An old tee shirt and well worn pajama pants. Underwear.

Just clothing. Clothing he had gone to sleep in. He didn't like to sleep naked anymore. He didn't like the feeling of being naked at all. A little dirt, just a few tiny holes near the bottom, and something that smelt like mustard. Blood, semen, and tears weren't on it. Alfred pulled his blanket over to cover himself, but seeing that nothing immediately came for him, he swung his legs off the side of the bed. The dawn's light had just broken through the sky, but it was still too dark to see anything. Even when it was light, he couldn't see the dangers in front of him. The only thing he could see was a mirror reflecting light and shadows, like how a lighthouse showed danger and safety in dark storms. Warning him. He jumped out of the bed, sprinting to the corner. He ran as fast as he could, leaping over a couch and landing with a thud. He slammed into the wall, hearing a loud thud and muffled crunching sounded behind him. Alfred swung his right arm as hard as he could against it, hoping it would incapacitate whatever was following him. He looked behind his back.

The wall now had two holes, one rather tall, and the other skinny and wide. It was his house, he didn't mind. Alfred paused, listening for any noises. Silence. If something was watching him it would have left by now. He looked in the mirror.  
There was behind him, and in case there was something to his side, he could glance at mirror so it couldn't take him by surprise. No bruises, cuts, markings or anything else was on him.  
Good. Nothing happened. Nothing had ever happened. At least, he thinks nothing happened. It felt like something. He had thought something happened.  
Nothing had happened. He turned around.

A closet with partially pushed in folded clothes from the night before, T.V., the messy bed and the mirror were the only things in the room. He picked up a broken piece of wall before settling it down to grab the sofa instead. It was narrow enough that he didn't struggle to see over when held, but it seemed hard to clench, like it just wanted to slide through his hands and escape. Feeling frustration, he found it easier to grip after the sound of tears told him he created a hole through it./p  
He could pay for it later. It was probably cheaper than the wall.

Alfred half crept, half ran to the closet. The door was partially open, but if he opened it with hands, and something was in there, it would leave him defenseless to whatever could be in there. If he opened it with his foot it could yank it, causing him to lose his balance, drop the sofa, and be attacked... Since he was already paying for repairs, one more thing couldn't hurt. He pushed the sofa into the closet door right handed, his left providing minimal balance mainly to grab anything he saw as a threat and slam the sofa against, if need be. He stepped back to see what was in it.

Some jackets, some clothes, other things. His clothes from earlier, folded, fallen, smashed by the sofa. The door now had a crack in it, being almost torn in half from the force.

Shivering, he checked his watch. The hanging hands pointed at 5:30.  
"Damn this fucking weather. Fucking Germany and his stupid punctuality!" Making him wake up at five in morning, covered in covered cold, making him look at every shadow, scaring him, scaring him. Making him afraid of everything, and for what? What could he possibly gain from this? Knowing what everyone was doing at any time, any place. Was he Orwell!? If someone didn't conform, didn't fit, you would do that to them?! Was it even worth it, with such sadism, just to have others follow your rules?!Satisfaction at hurting him, betraying him, utterly humiliating him by selling his own soul?! Did Germany ever have a soul!? He thought Russia didn't have a soul, though if he did, he must of lost it now. China too. What, apparently helping out and being optimistic were such horrible crimes that it must be corrected in the worst possible way? What fuck were they trying do with that? Why the hell did they do it? Why Russia, and why China? Why Germany, why Prussia? Why Italy? Why Romano? Why Japan or France?

Why England? Of all the people he knew, he never thought Arthur would betray and hurt him. There was only one time he could think of where England even felt homicidal with him, but it a long time ago, and it wasn't to r-  
Sex… Sex related acts. Painful, really sex that he never wanted to think about again. To bury deep as a body would be way too shallow. By over a million, with a million bodies in the ground before he would think about it. The wind must be what was making him shiver, even though the window was closed. Alfred picked picked up a couple of pieces of clothing and started to get dressed. Whatever he was going to do today would done completely clothed. The room was cold enough already, even though the window was closed. Even in a modern building, the cold could penetrate through the defenses and leave him shivering.

It wasn't that he was scared though. No matter what you did to him, he would never be afraid... However, it could still scare Canada, it could still frighten Mathew.

And where was he? He should probably call, tell him where he was so he wouldn't worry, and just relax and wait until the world melted into a stew called the past, a series of indecipherable writings written in madness. He looked around his bed for the cell phone, but couldn't the comforting light anywhere. Maybe he could go to Matthew when it got lighter out. Alfred stared at his phone, as if it could command things to change and happen or return them to how they were before. He looked around and saw the faint outline of the window, and he rushed over to the light. Alfred pulled open the window shades. It did nothing; it wasn't even dawn yet.

It would be a long time before it was light again.


	2. Chapter 2: Waking Up

_Beta-ed by AirElemental101_

"I'm so sorry, but I can't come-

Alfred hung up and redialed. Dang it… He had called him a lot, yet Matthew still wasn't picking up. He could be busy, but why didn't he even leave a note? Maybe he did leave a note, but he simply hadn't seen it yet. Or perhaps he just hadn't cared enough to do so.

"I'm so sorry-"

He pressed end. He probably wasn't going to call back soon, so he might as well call someone else. Alfred dialed his boss, who picked up almost immediately. "Alfred, where are you?! What are you doing and how come Canada had to pick up the phone last time?!"

Alfred sighed.

"Glad to hear from you too. Speaking of Canada, do you know where he is?" asked Alfred.

"Isn't he there with you? The last time I talked to him was over the phone when he was in New York with you. Are you sure he's not there?" So not even his boss knew why Canada had left.

"If he was here, wouldn't he have been back after an hour and ten minutes, or at least left a note?"

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't be. Do you think that he might have some really urgent business or something that he would have to go do?"

"I actually got a call from his boss complaining about how he'd had to leave work immediately for some emergency, though he never stated the cause. Probably not."

Alfred fell back on his bed.

THUMP!

CLACK!

Alfred raised his head. As he did so, he saw a shadow black as death through the mostly closed and darkened doorway. Normally he wasn't afraid of random things in the dark, but this thing unsettled him. Perhaps it was the fact that it was trying to not make a sound.

Alfred could investigate, but that would mean going closer to it. But if it was just a delivery guy, then that meant that he was a coward for being afraid. But if it meant ill, it would be terrible with no escape. As he debated with himself, he saw a long thin stick-like thing push through the front door. It closed softly, trapping him. But if it closed the door… then it was human.

The cold knife of fear stabbed his neck and absorbed itself into his body.

"America!" his boss yelled as Alfred dropped the cell phone to the floor. The shadow was facing him. It disappeared.

His heart must be stuck in a vise, he could feel his heart beating against it. Alfred tried to run away, but his legs had turned to lead.

"Come on, move. Move, move, move now!" He began to softly stutter, the cold air strangling him. It was as silent and cold as snow; only the phone gave out any noise. His blood was so hot, trying to unfreeze his legs. He felt it within his head; it was pushing around, bumping into memories that struck him like lightning. The only reason he didn't scream was because he couldn't. He could hear the stranger right outside… sneaking right outside the door. He saw it creak.

"Canada, is that you?!" Alfred tried to keep his voice even and normal, but even he could hear the fear in it. Perhaps it didn't notice. The door paused.

He finally breathed when he heard foot steps retreat. The front door closed softly.

He ran away. His hands were now movable, and they shook as he tried to retrieve his phone from the floor. His boss yelled almost immediately.

"America, what happened?! Is everything alright?"

Alfred said, as calm as he could, "Yeah, everything is alright. Did you or someone else send someone to my apartment?"

"No, what happened?"

"Nothing," he answered. "I'll just have to go away for a brief bit."

"But what about Cana-"

He hung up and dropped the phone. Alfred collapsed on the bed and screamed. How did that person know that he could talk to Canada? If it was just a burglar, wouldn't they just ignore a country's name called out as a person's? Did they think that it was a nickname? That he was crazy? Or were they just scared that someone was awake, and could call the cops?

Why did he have to talk about Canada anyway? Why, when confronted by something terrifying, was his first thought to ask about his younger brother like a toddler running to their mom? What was he, eight? That was pathetic, pitiable. He wasn't strong anymore, but begging for his brother like that? Hadn't he heard of pride? No wonder Matthew left him.

It was still uncertain where he had gone, though... Maybe he wasn't trying to avoid Alfred; it was just that he had to be somewhere and do something that he couldn't say no to. Maybe that was all the days he could take off from work without a notice. Maybe it _was_ an emergency. That would explain it. Since Matthew left without pre-authorization, they just weren't prepared for how much they needed him.

Alfred grabbed some cash and the gun hidden under the bed. Matthew wouldn't approve if he knew about it, but sometimes strength isn't enough to fight someone off. What a gun said was serious and loud. No one ever ignores a gun.

With the cash in his pocket and the gun up his sleeve, Alfred stared at his cell phone before walking out. Matthew would listen to him. He knew Matthew; they were brothers. Alfred just didn't know himself.


	3. Chapter 3: Results

Cold stone pressed against his back, the deranged birds flew about in utter mindlessness, shouting out to the world their cries.

In the air they flew, even though it felt like winter, as if they couldn't feel the coldness.

The phone was in his hand, a list of numbers that brought forth people. Either good or bad, but probably the latter. Alfred's head faced faced below it, staring blankly. Who should he call? Who _could_ he call? His boss would be useless, and for some reason Mathew didn't want to talk either. Everyone else… He couldn't tell.

Maybe they didn't all hate him, but he definitely couldn't just go and call them his friends. That would be lying… Maybe. He couldn't tell, he couldn't tell for anything anymore.

So he had no one left to depend on. Even the ones he thought could, ones that he thought he knew like the back of his hand and who had his back for years. Maybe it was all just some strange nightmare that he would wake from. Maybe it would all pass. He clutched at his head, feeling searing pain. He hoped it would go away.

He stopped staring at his phone as he heard something loud. A scream.

Birds ten feet away from him were fighting was turning violent, really violent. At first he couldn't tell why they were scratching and attacking each other, but then noticed that beneath the blood being drawn was just one small bird. It kept on darting away and hopping as if it could jump into the sky. Its wings were just torn flesh somehow still attached to it. _To prevent him from leaving,_ he realized, they attacked his wings. The small bird kept and screaming, shrieking for help, but none came. No one had even cared.

Because he was immobilized, the real attacks began. He tried darting away from their attacks, but there were so many of them he could escape. They tried aiming for his feet to stop him from hopping. They wanted him to see them attack.

 _KSHH ISSSHHH-DMP-DMP-DMP-DMP-DMP-DMP._

Once more the little bird feebly hopped around, but this time to look at his former attackers' corpses that were littered around. He gave a small tweet. Alfred was satisfied. They would-be murderers were gone. He was safe.

Alfred took a step back to look at what he'd done. All of asshole birds were crushed, and the little was fine, or as fine as he could be after such an attack. The one who was the closest gave a small squeak. Alfred shot it with his gun. The alive one gave out a small high sound while looking at one of them, growing louder as he called out to the dead men. A taunt from the victor. Alfred gave a weak smile as he dialed for his brother's boss.

"Hello, who is this?"

"Alfred."

"Hello Mr. America. Things have been going well, eh?"

"Meh. Have you seen Canada?"

"No. Haven't seen him for days. I thought he was with you."

"Well he was, but it looked like he disappeared. Maybe-"

Maybe he got kidnapped. The reason why he wasn't there was because someone stole him away, maybe even to hurt him like they did him. Matthew was so small; if someone laid a hand on him… even if he wasn't weak, they could still hurt him badly. But if that did happen, then what was he suppose to do? Mattie could be anywhere in the world, he could search everywhere he could and still not find him. He would rot behind the bars of hell just because he wasn't strong enough to protect him.

"-America, did you hear any of what I said?"

"Did it involve Mattie?"

"Well yes. I said I tried calling him earlier, and while he only picked up once, I heard French in the background. I thought that he would probably somewhere in Quebec, like Montreal, because he said had an important meeting in the capital."

"So he's in Montreal?"

"He could be, but I don't know. Like I said, I thought he was with you."

"But he could be in Montreal? Right?"

Yeah, he could be, but Quebec is a pretty big place. I don't know when he'll be back-"

"So I should go there to get him."

"Uh… Why? Can't you just wait for him? It was an impromptu thing, so it couldn't take very long. In fact, he might be coming back now. So it makes more sense to wait."

Matthew's boss did have a point on the length of travel, but he wasn't thinking keeping mind something important; what if Matthew wasn't coming back? Canada could have gone there specifically be he wasn't. He'd just left him at his house, and he was always annoyed by him. If he waited…Matt would be gone forever. He would be alone. He clenched his fist. He had to show Matt that he was worth it, even if he himself didn't feel it. He had to his friend back.

"No.", he said, "I have to go to him. It's too urgent."

"Why?", he asked, "Maybe I could talk to him"

"I don't get to him, he'll… forget".

"Forget what?"

Me, Alfred thought. "... You can trust me in that it's important. At least, I really hope so."

"Hmm... Are you not going to go back home if I don't help you?"

"I'm willing to walk the entire way to Montreal."

He heard a sigh. "I believe you. I'll help you get to Montreal, but only if you stop worrying your boss by hanging up in the middle of the only conversation he has had with you for days, or suddenly dropping out with almost no contact. He's really worried, he's never even you seen you sick-"

Alfred almost hung up then as he saw the bird from was still there, gazing at the dead. Its wings were too torn to fly, and his head rested on the ground, dejected of life. Nursing the phone with his shoulder, he gingerly guided the bird onto his hand and slowly lifted it to his face. The bird pecked his hand, hard. The little fighters never give up. Alfred gave a genuine smile.

"America?"

"Do you know any animal hospitals there? I want to go up for a quick visit."

* * *

 _I lost all the papers on the bus when I was visiting a college, but a staff has them, so I'll probably receive them by Saturday. I typed it in Google drive, so I didn't have to write this from memory. I will update every Wednesday, though because of the time it takes for it to show up, you might not see it until early Thursday. This is my first time publishing a story, so I would love to hear feedback, whether praise or specific constructive criticism. I received none yet, but I want to thank you for reading this.  
_


	4. Chapter 4: In Escaping

**Trigger Warning: intense.**

So it was decided. Alfred could have three days for seeing Matthew, and by the end of it would be back in at least New York City, if not Washington. Alfred would get to see Canada, both bosses would be satisfied, a win-win for everyone involved. All Alfred would have to do would be to find him. "Canada is not picking up anymore, I can't find him", Matt's boss had said, "I can't help you with much more, so do you still want to do this?".

Alfred was willing to walk through hell for his brother, and he had already done the hell part. Mat was the way back. He was more than willing to walk all of the way there. Taking the plane would be so much faster though, and…

A lot of things. Alfred was sitting at a bench, and craned his head to see the airplane. He was squeezing a small bag. Nothing could get him back into the apartment: he bought his only thing by just throwing cash at the register as he grabbed clothes and toiletries. He felt cold, Alfred hugged the bag closer. Maybe Mathew wouldn't make a fuss over his little rendezvous, but he knew that he would be happier if Matt did. Mat throwing his work, the bonds and monotony of a life so unstable, and hold him. Love him. Protecting each other from the harsh world and its tricksters. So he would go to him. It was just… He just..

How come he didn't want to ride the plane? Maybe it was because he didn't want to be in a crowded area with no way out, but he never felt that way before. Flying was movement, the very act of freedom and doing what you wanted. He couldn't be unhappy to fly. He loved flying. He always loved flying. The first time he saw a plane he had laughed, amazed at its abilities. That something could do a thing like flying, unburdened by anything as it flew away from the dangerous world. He had even showed it to Art-

… But a lot of things had changed, he thought, loosening his grip. And sometimes you just can't change them back to how they were before. No matter how much you wished it so.

"Five minutes to board flight 205, passengers have five minutes to board flight 205." Alfred quickly looked at the airplane, like it might leave him forever at any moment. He stood and picked his bag. He boarded.

* * *

The plane was small, filled with over a hundred people and only two exits. Alfred would be mobbed and helpless if the worst happened, unable to escape. He examined all possible perpetrators and seats, taking the seat closest to the exit. He tried to breathe and not think. Alfred couldn't do it. Surprising, considering all the times he did that, and only that. Maybe if he actually thought just once in a while, or only once, nothing would had-

Anyway, he was happy. He was happy. Long, gross knives could play around his body and he still wouldn't notice, for even as they cut him repeatedly, he would forget it as soon as it was out of his body. Nothing could get him down, he was too dumb to see what was happening in his face, not knowing and remembering. He closed his eyes. But he was happy. He had to be happy. For he was happy. Happy. He was happy. He was happy. He was happy. He couldn't change it, but that was okay. It didn't matter. He was happy. He was dumb. Happiness was dumb. Dumb didn't know how things happened, it let its mistakes and failures fuse together and rot everything. Inside out. They deserved what happened, okay! It was okay! It wasn't that bad! Why did they think it was that bad, it wasn't, it really wasn't! They didn't need to do that! They deserved what they got, rapists-

Rapists.

Rapist.

Rape.

Destruction.

Betrayal.

Why?

Who knows anymore? Alfred took in a long deep sigh and held it in. He felt too hollow. He needed a drink. He needed something to fill the cavity inside him. He ordered a water. Downed it in one gulp.

It was warm like a gentle spring day. A few days ago when he was walking to a meeting he ate a burger just like that. Just like that he pushed it into his mouth, gagging on it. The warm, putrid juices had filled his mouth on that day and exploded within him, choking on it's addicting repulsiveness. Maybe if he hadn't eaten it, simply hadn't gone there, no matter how well he had known it, he wouldn't have gone up like that, and end up covered in his gross liquids. He felt like his body was rotting from the inside; one strong kick would throw it down. He felt sick. He had felt hollow earlier, but now that his stomach was pulling into himself, he felt an even worse feeling: complete utter sickness from self-disgust.

He turned to excuse himself, but realized that he had no one to turn to. How weird, he'd never done that before. Alfred ran quickly, and turned to stone if he so much as brushed by a person's bag. Belongings were important, they stayed together no matter what. He never knew how mad people could get over a perceived wrong.

Alfred ran to the stall and keeled. He ended up vomiting all over the floor. He hastily took a towel and mopped it up. He didn't want them to be mad at them. Mad people could do anything.

After cleaning the floor, Alfred frantically washed his hands in the stall. Maybe it was not real, a lie, and it never really happened. Alfred had had known them since forever. Even if it did happen, maybe they were just giving him tough love and he reacted out of proportion.

He coughed. It spit up some vomit. After washing the vomit and spit off his coat, he realized how wet his face was, even though he didn't clean it yet. " _Smile",_ he thought " _Be happy". "That's who you are. Always happy and dreaming of tomorrow."_ He moved the corners of his mouth as far apart and high as he could. "See, that wasn't too hard, was it?" he muttered to himself. He looked at his reflection. A man close to tears grimaced with 'GUILT' written in ash black marker across his face. His lungs and stomach contracted. Alfred had vomited again, and swallowed small breaths.

But this time he was choking; his stomach in a vice, and something soft and squishy moving in his throat. Maybe his spastic movements were to free his lungs from this tight movement, from being torn into and groped. He tried pushing away, but they wouldn't let him go. Panting heavily, Alfred kept struggling, kept on trying to escape, but but they gripped him too strongly. Even if death grabbed onto him, they wouldn't him go. He tried to screamed, but he couldn't even hear his voice over some kind of deep rattling croak.

It was when he was falling to the ground that he was able to scream. By then, it was too late.

Once again he was utterly powerless. He was less aware of it than before, but he was still alive then. Or at least he was probably dead. He couldn't feel anything, so he couldn't tell. He didn't know, but he never knew a lot of things that he thought he did.

Everything felt bright, but already he felt cooler, and a hand that felt familiar and cool like an oasis held his. Through the slits of his eyes, he saw that the kid was blond with glasses. It must be-

"Matt-

"Sir, are you alright?" said the blond man in a deep voice,

"He's speaking!", cried a bystander.

"We thought you died".

"Passengers, we are landing because a passenger is sick. Repeat: we are landing because a passenger is sick."

"We have to get him to a hospital."

Uncontent with lying in his own vomit and having things out of his control, Alfred tried to say though his raw throat, "Mat-Matthew Williams. I have to go to Montreal. Matthew Williams is there. I hav..."

He thought that he being being strangled, for couldn't speak. He only coughed hard, almost vomiting when he tried. A soft hand touched his neck, moving the bile away from his throat. Grossed out by the soft flesh approaching his helpless mouth, Alfred tried to rise and push it, stand and run, be strong, free. Clean. Safe. Brave. He instead passed out. But no one noticed.

Except for the man following him.

* * *

 _Hello, thank you for reading this because it means a lot to me. Sorry that it's rough, but I couldn't find the paper that I wrote the middle on. Again, sorry. Originally this was two different things, but I put them together. Songs I listened to when writing this were_ I=nightmare, _and_ Leave it To Yotsuya san. _I don't know if I should put a tag for intensiveness or something on the top. Please leave a review. Thank you._

 _Edit: No one voted in the poll about how often I should update (the story is already written except for the last chapter, as a treat for me), but my brother would like for me to wrap this up, and move on to something different. Next week I will write on Wednesdays and Saturdays. I hope you all have good lives._


	5. Chapter 5: and Sort of Healing

_He hated it. America_ hated _it. Hate, hate, hate, hate,_ hated _it. Torn and broken inside and out, he never felt so destroyed. Utterly disintegrated of who he was. America was gone. Everything about him, and that he cared for was gone. Alfred gave in, closed his eyes and silently cried._

 _He wanted to die._

" _Canada!"_

 _Alfred looked up._

 _An angel arrived._

 _"Mattie?"_

" _Alfred!"_

" _Mat, what are you doing here?" Everyone abandoned him, and left him to rot. Why would Mat go through the effort of saving him. Why would he care? Didn't he care about his own safety? Why did Alfred's matter?_

 _Matthew didn't answer him. He was too concerned with him to answer. "Oh God. Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. It's all over… I'll take you to the hospital."_

" _N-noo."_

" _Eh?"_

" _I want to go home." He wanted to be in a familiar place with the person he loved._

" _Okay, I'll take you home. You're safe with me. I'm not leaving your side. You've done nothing wrong. You don't deserve this."_

" _I'm so sorry Alfred", he mumbled as soft as a mouse. "I'm so sorry."_

 _Alfred didn't care. Still trapped in hell, but about to leave it. Most importantly, he wasn't alone. Someone was with him, and didn't abandon him. That was all he needed, and all he could get. Matthew was forever linked to any future he had. He couldn't have survived without Matthew. He would have died without Matthew. Without Matthew…_

 _But the thing he needed most was gone. Was it possible to grab him back without him?_

 _Was it possible to live without him?_

"I don't care if I'm hurt, I need to see Matthew Williams!"

"But do you even know where he is?", asked the nurse. The nurse had slighlty long hair a long thin piece sticking out towards the patient, standing across the bed from him. Not speaking English too well, but seemed to be the only person the paitent was willing to talk to. He seemed to be hateful, perhaps of blondes, pushing away the doctor from his face with enough force to make a crack in the floor. The nurse didn't know why he didn't react similar as before. He actually seemed to calm down. Or at least he did until learning that he couldn't see his friend. Then he became confrontational.

"Even if you're eighteen-"

"Or older". Alfred knew that much about himself.

"Or older; you're still too injur-

"It's only a couple of bruises-"

"That look like you got into a fight." Alfred stiffened, even though that didn't help before.

He was baffled. He couldn't believe that not only did he not continue the plane ride, that now he was stuck here. Way to go Alfred. At least the rain, pushing against the body of the plane, throttling its hands, also stopped it. So at least he'd left it necessarily. Now he just had to leave this place.

"Though they don't look serious, (they're mostly old), they do look very... inorganic." He didn't say that they looked like they were to stop or beat him, or that he obviously had bruises on his lower body, judging from how he silently winced as was laid down the bed by the other nurses. He was adamant about keeping his clothes on, threatening to beat them. The nurse had a feeling why. "If you want, you could stay just a little longer. Just until they heal."

"Thanks, but no. I have a friend that I need to see very soon, so since I can-"

"Barely"

"Walk, I better leave."

"But the state cares for you here."

"Not where I'm from. Besides insurance, I just have to go to my _adult_ friend ASAP."

"Why do you have to leave so soon to get to him?"

"Because..." Because the bosses would kill him? He still had to escape that thing from the apartment before it found him? That something serious obviously happened to Mattie? Or that he was just tired of dealing with him, and left?

B-but that obviously couldn't be true. Mattie _saved_ him. Matt risked himself for him. They were brother, allies; Utterly dependent on each other. At least, he hoped.

"I need to see him because... He's the only friend that I have left. I trust him, and I... I love him. And he loves me too, probably more than I'll ever know, and I've known him for almost my whole life. I actually don't need to worry about whether I trust him. I just do. He would never betray me. That's the only thing that I know for sure." Alfred gave a smile.

The nurse returned it. "I glad to hear that. In a way, that's what I wanted to here the most from you. As long as he's trustworthy and willing to bring you to a hospital later, I glad to here that."

"He's the one that I trust the most".

"That doesn't mean a lot", the nurse mumbled quietly. "But just do this; be careful of who you trust. Sometimes we don't know ourselves as well they do. Someone dear who betrays you hurts you harder then someone who wasn't."

"I know that. Believe me."

"I just don't want you to get hurt."

"I won't."

"Good. As long as you don't get hurt. I'll go sign you out." The nurse smiled and left the room, leaving Alfred alone. The blond man wondered if this really was a good idea.

* * *

 _I'm sorry that the fic is like this, and a day late as well, but I hadn't written it on the computer yet. I noticed at nine-something, also goofed around a little, and was up until a tiny bit after midnight. That, and now I can't find the rough draft paper. In the original, there wasn't the italicized part, but it helps establish the motivation of why he wants to see his brother so badly. In the second sequel, you'll see Mattie's side of that scene._


	6. Chapter 6: Plea: A mistake

Dear Canada,

Where had you been? I was looking for you but I decided to stop and stay at a hotel in Montreal. So I gave up (for once, look at how I changed. I'm finally realizing the obvious). I guess I shouldn't have chasing you when you just wanted to live your own life, and that I should have just been happy for you t̶o̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶i̶c̶e̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶b̶r̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶m̶e̶ ̶b̶a̶c̶k̶. I̶s̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶f̶u̶n̶n̶y̶ ̶h̶o̶w̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶t̶u̶r̶n̶e̶d̶ ̶o̶u̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶w̶a̶y̶,̶ ̶h̶o̶w̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶a̶l̶w̶a̶y̶s̶ ̶e̶n̶d̶ ̶u̶p̶ ̶b̶e̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶i̶g̶n̶o̶r̶e̶d̶,̶ ̶b̶u̶t̶ ̶y̶e̶t̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶s̶t̶i̶l̶l̶.̶.̶. I understand. I'm not nice to be with and that I've caused you a lot a trouble,̶ ̶b̶u̶t̶ ̶I̶ ̶g̶u̶e̶s̶s̶ ̶I̶ ̶s̶t̶i̶l̶l̶ ̶f̶e̶e̶l̶ ̶b̶e̶t̶r̶a̶y̶e̶d̶. If something like this ever happens again (somehow) please leave me a note a̶n̶d̶ ̶a̶ ̶r̶e̶a̶s̶o̶n̶.̶ ̶O̶n̶ ̶s̶e̶c̶o̶n̶d̶ ̶t̶h̶o̶u̶g̶h̶t̶,̶ ̶I̶ ̶d̶o̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶k̶n̶o̶w̶. before you leave, and I'll stop having others suffer, and endure my own troubles. I just still don't know why you rescued me, especially because you ended up leaving me you seem busy, and that you could have gotten hurt. I'm glad that you didn't get hurt. Y̶o̶u̶'̶r̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶o̶n̶l̶y̶ ̶f̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶̶I̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶l̶e̶f̶t̶.̶ ̶h̶a̶d̶.̶

I love you, please respond.

Alfred.

* * *

 _Should I make the tag angst instead of friendship, or spiritual? Vote in my poll, or tell me, please. Also, please review. I almost can't wait to update again, so thank you everybady for reading._


	7. Chapter 7: A Cold Realization

_Semi-spoiler for this chapter: I edited chapter four to include the foreshadowing line :"_ Except for the man following him" _so it seems less like it was pulled out of nowhere._

* * *

Alfred landed on the bed, tired from… well, everything, he guessed. He felt tired, like lead covered every part of his body. His heart, lungs, and skin, making it harder to move, and his lead covered eyes and brain made it harder to do. He was as heavy and useless like a stone. Matthew, however, was covered in pure, clean feathers polluted by nothing, dirtiness nor guilt. So free and fast, Canada could fly anywhere. Just like he used to. Canada was probably as far away from him as possible. He could see why now.

He already wasn't America, but now he wasn't Alfred either. The last thing he held onto was gone. Even Matthew… Even Canada didn't like him now. Nobody liked him. Maybe nobody actually loved him either, maybe ever. His economy was gone, and that was the only thing that anyone really cared about. It was enough to-

No, no, no, he didn't want to think about it! Even pondering of thinking about killed him on the inside of his already rotting self.

The hollow tick of his heart was the only thing moving in the room. Alfred pushed his face deeper into the pillow. He couldn't breath like last time, but this time he didn't care. It couldn't get any worse at this point. Two things were moving at this point. One of them was the door.

Alfred almost couldn't hear the footsteps, much less the ever so slightly opened door. Alfred sighed. "I'm signing out, doc, I just want to lie down for another minute."

The person took his hands from the hoodie pocket and patted Alfred's head. He swiped it away. Again he patted Alfred's head. Alfred started to turn around until he saw his brother's hoodie. Red like the leaf on his flag and smelling just like the blood of that tree, Alfred knew that it could only be one person. A pinch appeared on his arm, and his heart. He smiled.

"I'm so happy that you're here, I thought that you went to Montreal to get away from me, but now I see how that's not true! I knew you wouldn't abandon me! I love you, Mattie!", Alfred exclaimed happily. Maybe he was loved.

"Mhh", he replied. Alfred noticed that his arm was asleep, even though he wasn't on it. Maybe he should move. Alfred started to rise, feeling a little drowsy. Someone pushed him down. So weak. Alfred tried to face his friend, ask him what was going on. A wet rag was pushed into his face. It smelled like chloroform.

"What's the deal man?", he wanted to ask, trying to rise. He only yawned, and rolled onto his back. He saw the face of the man in the hoodie.

"I'm sorry, but I'll make it better again, I promise. Just trust me, please."

"Why", asked Alfred,struggling from the invisible bonds. _Why did it have to happen again, why did it have to happen again, why, why, wasn't once enough? Would this keep happening, repeating forever, until he died? It was hard to fix things if this keeps happening again and again and_ \- He started to cry, shedding tears. He started to cry, calling out, "Why Englan-"

Alfred yawned again, and Arthur put the chloroform soaked rag to his face. Struggling briefly, Alfred blacked out.

Once again, he was in Hell. But this time, there was no way out.

* * *

 _Please comment and say what you did and didn't like, and why. Thank you, have a lovely day._


	8. Chapter 8: Let Me Not Die

Waking up, the first thing he did was scream from his nightmares before shutting himself; someone might hear. The second thing he did was notice how… off his body was. His arms were iron, and he couldn't see shit; it felt like he was in a storm, his body in a fog. Once again he couldn't tell what to do because everything was so unclear and surreal. Someone should turn on the lights, he thought. If bad things happened to him when he couldn't see it, he would be even more helpless. Slowly he tried to move his arm to adjust his glasses. He froze. He couldn't move, his hand stopped suddenly. He tugged at it hard. He felt a circle of pain on his wrist and …some kind of warm liquid flow down towards him. It's water, it's just water, it was raining yesterday, it would drip down, he thought. It felt too warm, a painful hotness once again trying to melt and destroy him.

Alfred started breathing as if he could suck in the fear and blow it away, like it could cut the chains around his arms. He felt trapped in a hurricane, his limbs moving around in random circles, and everything was so loud you scream and still not be heard.

For a brief second he saw the bright outline of a shadow, and the creaking of metal. The light felt like something had cut his eyes. He cringed and closed them. Even though both lasted a second, but neither drew as much terror as a small, almost inaudible sentence from the creature.

Once again he screamed as he tried erratically to free himself from the chains. It must be working, he thought. He was able to see all the metal bend at least just a little. If he tried really hard, might get free before it came for him.

It, however, was walking at only a slightly fast pace. It didn't need to run; he couldn't escape any way. He tried to push away and struggle, run away to anywhere, but he couldn't. He was just too weak to run away.

The man was in front of him now, too close run away , even if his chains disappeared. He crossed his legs the best he could, covering his mouth, and pushed his back against the wall. The creature was smiling.

"Ah, Alfred, you finally woke up. I guess I should have told you before, but the anesthetics used weren't that good. They take forever to work, and when they do… well, you know what happens. So I used different ones this time. Are you feeling okay? Are you cold?"

"St-st-t-t-t-"

"I think that's a yes", replied Arthur.

"Nnnnnno. No. No. No. No. No!"

"... I understand, Alfred", Arthur said before grabbing something from behind him. Oh dear God, what was England going to do now?!

Please let it not be that, please let it not be that, please let it not be that, please let it not be that, please let it be anything but that. Sourness rose up in his throat, choking him. He wanted cry, he wanted to die. Please let it not be that.

Slowly and deliberately, England pulled out… a blanket! England covered him carefully in it. "I knew that you might be cold in a place like this, but not tell me about it, so I decided to bring you a blanket just in case."

"England, where am I?"

"With me, silly."

"But, like where exact-"

"That's all you need to know", Arthur said abruptly.

"But why?"

"Because I wanted you here?", Arthur said in a confused tone of voice. "Why else would I bring you here?"

"Any rea-

"Oh yeah", he said, giggling, "I didn't explain it to you, so of course you don't know. I wanted to make sure you were safe, so I searched for your apartment so I could try talking to you, but you didn't want to talk. I couldn't just leave you alone, so I followed to you to Montreal and brought you here."

"Where's Canada?"

England shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe his house?"

"Anyway, know that you know that I'm alright, you should let me go now."

"Umm…"

"Umm what?"

You're not going back. You're staying here."

"What?!"

"You're not going back", said Arthur, "I'm in charge of you now, and I don't want you to get hurt. I have enough magic and food to keep us here for over a century. By that time, they'll won't believe their eyes if they see you. They wouldn't even remember you."

"You're not seri-"

"I am", Arthur answered. "I wouldn't just lie to you." The younger nation lifted his head with his eyes wide open, like he wanted to know if it was really true before rolling them back down again, his head to his chest. He started to laugh. Quiet and low, it became louder and quicker until it sounded like a shriek.

England knew that sound. The sound of the dying man, the laughing mad, those that life had abandoned. Louder than a horse's shriek, a death rattle for the still alive, Alfred was the laugh of a man who just didn't care what happened to him. The laugh of the soon to be, and already on the inside, dead. He shivered. But it wasn't that bad, he was trying to help him. Even th- No, nothing happened on that day, he didn't do anything wrong, he didn't hurt Alfred, he didn't hurt the person he truly loved, nothing happened, nothing happened, nothing happened, nothing happened, nothing happened, nothing happened, nothing happened, okay! Nothing, happened! He couldn't take this right now. Both he and Alfred needed to rest.

"Umm… I understand that you're not happy, so I'll leave you alone until dinner time", Arthur said before walking up the stairs. With the door,

everything was once again dark. He stopped laughing.

On the bright side, at least he wasn't with Ar- with Eng- with, with, with, with-

With no one anymore. He was going to be stuck like this forever.

As the younger nation started to giggle deeply again, pain like lead balls and needles rambled in his stomach. He felt sick again. He wanted to die again. He felt like he was in Hell again. Again. Again. He laughed. The pain traveled to his crotch. He finally cried. Again, what wimp, what a wuss, only a wuss like him would cry again. The young nation smiled. At least it couldn't get worse. But that was what he thought last time, wasn't it? He frowned.

But he was still screwed. Poor, tired, soiled, broken and screwed. But this time, he couldn't escape that fact.

This time, there was no way out.

* * *

 _Hello, what do you think of the chapter? I liked it, so I'm going to show my brother it. I hoped you liked it as well, so please tell me what you thought of it. I got the chapter title from my mom, which she got from facebook. It's one half of an important Jewish prayer, so Jews or people who want to google it have a hint for how the next chapter will go. I hope everyone has a great weekend! Also, you know how I listened to_ In A Rainy Town, Baloons Dance With Devils _? This is sorta based off of ward room 305, where she is trapped in a mental ward because of her mental breakdown from the previous song._


	9. Chapter 9: While I Am Still Alive

Struggling against the bonds, he stopped and noticed the mirror on the opposite wall, reflecting the window above him and all it showed. England must have put it there to make him more content with staying; all it did was make him think of his brother. At least Canada shared the same sky, (even if he could barely see any of it). If he was taken from Montreal, he couldn't have gone far.

Unless it had been more than one day. If it was four or even two days, than he could be anywhere in the world: an abandoned English castle; the catacombs of Paris, to the northernmost parts of Siberia. No one would know where he was. Canada would forget him, abandoned to the end of the wicked dust in darkness.

He screamed; concerned only letting out his pain, and that he was here, alive. No matter how much he was already dead. If love was life, he was going to die. In fact, he was already dead. There was nothing left anymore. He wanted to laugh, but he cried instead. What was the point? He was just stirring in his misery. Nothing was farther from where he used to be than where he was now; financial success only _hurt_ him; he didn't know what was real anymore, and didn't even know who _he_ was either. Everyone abandoned him, even Canada. He had nothing left. He wept. The door opened. There was a tray with a soda, a couple of scones, and-

"A hamburger for lunch, your favorite! I don't know if you would like it the way I made it, so I hope it's to your liking."

"But England, I don't know anything about me anymore. I don't even know who I am any-"

"Well that's not true. You're brave and strong, aren't you?"

"No."

"You stand up for justice."

"I can't even stand up for mysel-

"And you're a brave hero-

"England, heroes don't get ra-

"A hero who enjoys freedom."

"England, I'm not free. In fact, I'm not anything at all. I'm just..."

England's brow furrowed. "Alfred, don't act like that. That's silly, because you're you. You're Alfred F. Jones, United States of America. I love you more than anything, and that's because you're you. I _love_ you." Arthur kissed his forehead as he tried to briefly turn away before stopping; he couldn't control what England did to his body.

Pulling away, England noticed that his ward was sad. He coughed. He didn't expect Alfred to react badly. England tried to think; what would excite him? Then he remembered. Reaching into his bag, England pulled out-

"My coat. Where did you get it?", he asked, sounding a little surprised. England smiled.

You left this in the meeting room the other day. It was messy and torn, so I fixed it up for you", he said, laying it in front of his ward. After waiting for several minutes for a response, England decided to ask what he thought. He said that he didn't deserve it; it was America's coat.

"How many times do I have to tell you? Do you have amnesia? _You're_ America, Alfred. Don't keep saying that you're not."

He shrugged, and said okay. Arthur didn't believe him.

It was clear that Alfred was sad, but he didn't know that it was _this_ much. After spending several minutes pondering and debating whether it was a good idea, he realized that probably nothing else would make him stir, England decided to say: "But Canada also loves you as well. You have to believe at that."

Alfred's eyes lit up at the mention of his brother. England hadn't seen that look in his eyes since… Since Alfred started to avoid him. So instead of backing off when Alfred asked about him, Arthur encouraged the conversation and said: "I didn't get to talk to him earlier, but he seemed really desperate to see you once you ran off. In fact, he seems like he was ready to search the entire continent for you."

"Matthew didn't abandon me?", he said with a fearful smile. "Didn't he lie about being in Montreal to avoid me?"

"Of course, he was in Paris with France until he heard that you went missing, and headed straight over to where you were seen last. I don't know where you got that idea, but he was worried sick over you. A lot of people are worried about you."

"So Mattie did care."

"He does care", Arthur corrected, "I would have invited him here if I didn't think he would try taking you away. You ran away once, Alfred, and that's more than enough for me. No one's taking you away from me again." Still pondering over what England said to act, he was once again kissed on his forehead. England left. Alfred thought.

So _multiple_ people were looking for him? People cared so much about him that they were looking over the whole _world_ for him. It didn't matter that he had felt hopeless; people were worried, looking all around for him. Even if it was only his brother, that was already more than enough. Alfred needed to escape. He pulled on both of the chains pulling his arms to the ground until he became tired and had blood dripping down him. Just like before, until Matt came for him. Mattie didn't want to lose him. He couldn't die here, not without seeing his brother.

Instead of giving up, he just focused on pulling with all his might on one chain until it started to bend and then break. Encouraged, he did the same with the other chain, cracking and breaking under five minutes. Chain shards covered his jacket. For the first time in days, Alfred stood up. All he would have to do would be to climb into the window. Then he would be free. Gingerly shaking off the filth on his jacket, Alfred put it on himself and looked out the window, staring at the sky as the sun covered him in its light. He felt not just like Alfred, but like America again. He smiled. He climbed out the window, slipping slightly only once. He could finally smell the fresh air and see all of the beautiful sky. Alfred smiled.

America was free again.

 _This is the second to last chapter. Sorry for publishing this so late at 9: 50 PM, but I didn't have this typed up (again), and didn't have enough time to write it on the computer. I listened to "Song for the Unsung Hero" for this. I started to write this at my brother's graduation, and the choir sang it. It just fit it so well. Stuyvesant High School. Also, please tell me what you think of this story, or at lease England. Thank you for your consideration. Good day, and good night._


	10. Chapter 10: Back

_Sorry for publishing this a day late, my brother went to college, and we came back at seven. My brother left the computer on, so there was not a lot of time left. I asked my mom for a time extension, so she let me on her computer. It froze up a bit, and I researched stuff for other writing, so I was up til 12:03-30. Final Chapter! This is the end of the first story that I ever actually both published and finished! I plan on writing 2 sequels, even though absolutely no one asked for even one, because I already have some of it written, and I really want to write it. I wrote it pretty well, if I do say so my self. I'll create two polls about when to release it, and which one people want to see first, though for so far nobody voted in any that I set up. Also, for some reason the view trackers says that I haven't had any new views since last Sunday, but I got two reviews for the last chapter. So has no one been reading this, or is there something wrong with it, because I don't know how to report a bug. It's now fixed. I'm now releasing the sequel on Sunday. Now finally, the crappy maudlin ending!_

* * *

Matthew landed on the bed, and tried to cry his sadness out. Both cynical tiredness and a warm feeling inside him didn't allow him. Maybe it was hope, telling him to not give up. Isn't that something Alfred would do, tell him that things cou- will get better? To never give up, because tomorrow will be better than today? Work hard, do it for love, and you will get what you want? As long as that part of America was there, and even if he only saw it again for less than five minutes, he could happily carry that in his heart forever. If it was gone (maybe it was), then…

He wouldn't know how to keep living. The birds cawed, the wind howled, and Matthew was sure he saw a tree fall. No person could make a tree fall. He would blame the storm if it was there. There was no logging in that area, and he knew the area like the back of his hand;none of the trees were that broken and old. He could feel it in his body. He felt something strong, banging against animals and trees, almost running. It couldn't have been a human, they were too weak. A nation wouldn't walk who knows how far through the woods. It definitely wasn't an animal.

Canada smiled. He knew who it was. Sure enough, after two more trees fell down and he was in the clearing, Matthew saw his golden hair and tired smile. Matthew ran down the stairs to meet him.

Once his way down, he heard a shriek. Learning from last time, he ran towards it. It was Francis.

"Why did you scream, what happened?"

"You're not going to believe this, but I saw-"

"Alfred. I know."

"We have to leave immediately." Francis grabbed Matthew's hand and tried to lead him away. He didn't budge.

"But why?", asked Matthew.

"Alfred might be angry about what happened, and if if he's that determined, it can only be for something bad."

"Francis, _you_ hurt _him._ Why are you worried?"

"Because he might go on a rampage, that's why!" Francis grabbed his hand again and tried to pull him away. Matthew let go. France ran away, until he noticed and looked behind his back. Matthew was gone.

Opening the door, he felt two things that almost knocked him down. The icy wind, and a familiar coat wrapped around a man with an emotionless face. The wind he had faced many times before, now second nature. It was the man that left him speechless. He was his age, but looked almost like an old man because of his weary and sad face.

But beneath that were the excited, hopeful eyes he loved. "Alfred, where have you been? I was so worried about you. Did you run away? Did anything happen to you?"

"I got kidnapped by England, if that's what you mean.

"Did he do anything to you?"

"I'm fine, I just got kissed on the forehead."

"I'm so happy", Matthew said before he hugged Alfred. Alfred didn't mind. In fact, he liked it. He loved it. He hugged him back. They stood there, finally together before Matthew pulled away slightly to look in Alfred's eyes. They never seen eachother look so relieved and satisfied.

"Alfred, I want you to be safe, so from now on, I'll promise to always be there to protect you. I love you too much for you to get hurt again."

"Thanks", he said, "But I don't need it. Searching for you, I learned that I am not as weak as I thought I was. I'm not super strong as I was, but I can fight for myself now, Mattie."

Matthew hugged his brother closer. "I'm so happy to hear that. As long as you're happy, so am I."

And they were.


End file.
